Adventures of the Hob
by Loyal Eskamoe
Summary: My character from a Dark Ages campaign and his adventures. He was once Malkavian, but now knows vicissitude and considers himself to be something he calls a "Mal-tsize". Oh, and he's been to the future somehow.


It's not fun, being awesome.  Really.  

It was during one of the times Nevinyrral went away, to report to his masters regarding his search for Anarchs, that I found myself walking around a village near Prague.  Not in Prague, mind you.  Just near it.  I had heard rumors of a fairly powerful vampire around those parts, and so there I was.  Walking around. 

After about my twelfth rotation, I got bored.  So I entered the village and found an inn with a bar.  I bought the local gentry a round or two to loosen up their tongues.  Then I began to listen.

What I wanted to hear was information about my intended foe.  Recent vampire attacks, rumors about our kind and their activities, that sort of thing.  But what I got was the just same petty issues people have been complaining about since I was alive.  

_The government is shit!  We should revolt!_ (I always thought they were revolting anyway.)  _The wife's too fat!  The wine's too thin!  Do you think the tumor on my face will go away? _

Fah!  Fools.  After a night of listening that, all I wanted was to rent a room for the day and take my rest.  So I did.

The day came and went, without incident for this sleepy little bigger-than-a-hamlet I assume, and so night settled.

I awoke.

Halfway to sunrise, I heard the sounds of panic and chaos from out my window and below my feet.  The walls were strangely quiet, fortunately.  After I put my gear together, I went downstairs to ask the innkeeper what has transpired, and he was kind enough to tell me.  

There was murder this night.  A vampire attacked in the market, killing some of the populace.  This took place a little after evening ascended.  I thanked the man for his information and proceeded to the site of the incident.  

I thought as I walked.  You might think this unusual of me perhaps, but you would do well to remember I have five whole dots in intelligence.  I am fully capable of thinking things through.  And I thought well on this.  A vampire attacking humans is not rare, of course.  But the fact it did so in complete view of the public is.  Well, at least since the formation of our kind's insipid masquerade.  Obviously, the perpetrator had little regard for the rules we are now meant to follow.

The village's guards were already on scene, controlling the crowds and gathering statements.  Immediately, I decided to investigate on my own.  After all, do I not also possess six whole dots in investigation, with a speciality in searching for clues?  Thus, I put my keen detecting skills to work.

The first minutiae of evidence I was able to detect was the blood on the wall of a store.  It was covering about twenty percent of it.  I concede the guards might've also noticed that.  And if they are skilled in any way, shape, or form, they too have noticed the distinct patterns in which the blood appeared.

_"Fear us, cattle,"_ the pattern writ. _"For we are the avatars of your death!  Vampires will never hide!"_

An admirable sentiment.  One I share, in fact.  This is in defiance of the Treaty of Thorns, however, and invites the wrath of the Elders.  Along with everything that entails.

My rumination was interrupted when a man screamed.  He ran out from the crowd and knelt by the corpse of a woman.  He took her head and cradled it to his breast, weeping all the while.

As the guards pulled him away from his dead woman, I noticed her rump.  It was a rather nice one, and I'm sure it would've made an excellent meal.  Apparently she was out shopping for supper when she was killed, and it looks like she must've received a good deal on it.   Anyway.  Judging by the odd angle of her neck, and taking into account the distance of the body from the head, I'd say cause of death was a severe beheading.

Right.  It was time for a closer inspection.  I took off my face and sauntered over.  To my amusement, a guard tried to get in my way.  I made no effort to hide my feelings from him.  Unfortunately, he didn't share my sentiment.  In fact.  He was growing quite belligerent.

Heh.

His fellows began to take notice.  They too were not amused.  Well that just won't do.  If they presented any sort of challenge, that would be one thing.  But these weak mortals simply don't.  To kill them would be without point.  I have other, more benign, ways available to me.

With my presence, I instill such awe in them.  They love me.  They would do anything for me.  I see it in their eyes, and it fills my head with ideas!  But then I notice it again: the writing on the wall.  And I am reminded that I haven't the time for games.  Not right now anyway.  But then, what is time to a vampire?  All the remainder of it is laid out before me.  Like a whore, giving freely of her services.  

But I digress.  

Not all of the guards were impressed by my presence, and they rallied against me.  That would not do.  I asked my friends if they would... restrain the others.  After all, I need peace and quite if I am to conduct my business.  They happily complied.  

Of course, the gathered onlookers had grown quite confused by now.  Thankfully, I was able to calm them down by saying I was an official from another town.  And with that taken care of, I was free to continue my investigation unmolested.

My focus was first drawn to the corpses on the ground.  There were fifteen.  Not all were beheaded, like the man's woman.  Some had been eviscerated, while others were merely fed upon.  Most were murdered by the sword.  It was, in my expert opinion, impossible to tell who killed the humans based solely on their wounds.  They could have come from any such weapon.  

I asked the crowd for witnesses to this crime.  A guard told me the witnesses were brought to the Captain of the Guard's office for further questioning.  Inconvenient, but manageable.  I would simply go there and avail myself of the Captain's cooperation.  Before I left, there was one more thing for me to try.

Placing my hand upon the blood slick wall, I focused my mind on divining the author of so ghoulish a message.

Ah.  It was one of the victims.  Forced to do so by his murderer.  He was seventeen, and so very afraid.  I removed my hand and looked for the lad.  There he was.  Laying, having been run through by a sword, in a pool of his own blood.  Such a waste.  His eyes were staring vacantly to the heavens, as though begging for entry into that most holy domain.  I resisted the urge to act upon my emotions, and instructed a guard to take me to his leader.

When we arrived, I entreated the Captain to assist me in any way possible.  He demanded to know who I was.  Good man.  He was quite right in doing so.  I repeated my lie.  Unfortunately, he didn't seem too convinced, and asked to see my credentials.  Thus, I was forced bend his will and emotions so that he would accede to my wishes.  The simpering look on his face told me of my success.  This one would now do whatever I desired.

I repeated my question, respectfully.  No reason not to at least show the pretense of deference.  After all, I am in _his_ town investigating murders that took place on _his_ watch.  Long ago, when I filled a similar role, I would have expected nothing less from an outsider.

The Captain asked how he could help.  I smiled inside.  When this is over, I would show my appreciation to him.  For now though, I merely requested to speak with the witnesses.  He nodded and brought me to them.

From their accounts, I was able to get an idea of what they saw.

The attack did indeed begin shortly after sunset.  To the villagers, it seemed to happen so fast.  The first victim was the woman.  Her severed head signaled the start of Hell.  Bodies fell and blood flew.  The murderer seemed to move like lightning, they told me.  One by one they witnessed their family and friends fall.  One by one did they see a blade flash through flesh.  When it appeared to be over, the young man was chosen to paint the message using only his hands.  He was promised his life, loudly so that all may hear.  But was betrayed.  With an almost casual ease, the youth was struck down.  Bloodlust satisfied, the assailant vanished into thin air. 

I enquired after anything they might've seen concerning the identity of this murderer.  Was it male or female?  Tall or short?  Skin color, eye color, any telling marks or body art?

It was a male.  That was all they could confess to know truly.

Was that to be all I am able to glean from these peasants and their descriptions?  This did not seem right to me, and so I resorted to other means in which I could learn the truth.  I requested to speak with each of them again.

I peered into their minds.  Or at least those that I felt were hiding something.  Others it took only charm, cajoling, and subtle intimidation.

But all of it was for naught.  I was unable to discern what the attacker looked like.  Nor was I able to see what clan they might be from.  And the sword moved too swiftly for human eyes to follow.

Ah.  There was a thought.  Perhaps another vampire was witness to this attack?

I gave the Captain and his men my thanks and took my leave of them.  I hurried back to that bloodied market, eager explore this fresh avenue of thinking.  Once there, I expanded my senses.

The world exploded into gross color and sound and smell!  I could see the fibers so thin and fine, as not to be noticed by the naked eye.  The rubbing of cloths thundered in my ears.  And the stench!  Feh!  What disgusting odors these humans create.  Such discordancy assaulted me, and I could not concentrate for more than a few moments.

But fortune was with me, for once, and I was able to notice the barest of scents telling me - yes, a vampire had indeed born witness to these events.  I could not, however, find which direction they went.  (I didn't roll high enough.  Whatever.  I'm just happy I didn't botch!)

Daylight was fast approaching and I hurried back to my inn for a days rest.

I awoke the next night sluggish and dreary, for I had not yet fed to replenish my blood points.  Last night's activities left me weaker than I would've liked.  I had only used eight blood points, but still!  Immediately, I left my room to correct this problem and searched for a human on which to dine.  With further reflection, it occurred to me that this might not exactly have been the wisest notion, considering the events of the previous night.  That, in fact, I should summon an animal to slake my thirst instead.

Looking at the human squirming beneath my mighty arms, I pondered what to do next.  I could release him, of course.  But then he would tell his friends of my assault.  The human shook his head, denying vehemently that would happen. 

Hmm.  How did the human know what I was thinking?  To my surprise, he claims I spoke aloud.  I ignored him.  Clearly I hadn't.  This was inner-monologue time.  Could this human have some sort of telepathic ability?  Could he be the vanguard of a new race of humans with strange and impossible abilities?  It was a heady notion, to be sure.

The human stated, once again, that I was merely speaking aloud, and that anybody with a functioning set of ears could understand what I was saying.

I stared into his eyes and looked at his soul.  It was shiny like a puppy after eating a whole chicken.  I decided to believe him.  I apologized for any trouble caused, and wondered if a small, but fair, amount from my purse would buy his silence.  He nodded eagerly at the prospect of coinage.

Before I allowed him to leave, however.  I politely informed him that if anyone did confront me in regards to this situation, he would soon find himself missing a finger on his left hand and without any reasonable means of defecating.

So, with a hearty smile and fond farewell, I sent the merry little man on his merry little way.  It's always nice to help others out.  He was quite happy to receive my coins.  He must've had great need of it.

I was still hungry.

The edge of town was not far.  And beyond that, lay woods.  There I harkened beasts unto me and drank deeply.  I chuckled under the moonlight, and thought of Luna.

My thirst sated, I left the charnel animal house, and returned to my mission.  The market was clean again.  Though, to my amusement, there were pink stains covering the ground.  And the words were made comical by their light-red hue.  I considered sharing the joke, but doubted a human would truly understand.

What to do now, I wondered.  After thinking for a moment, I came to the conclusion that I would seek out the vampire witness.  I strode purposefully through the bustling market.

Only to stop after mere meters.  Making me miss my mission mobjective... by mere meters.  Not really.  I just wanted to say a sentence with alliteration in it.

But I did stop.  For reals.  I needed to figure out where to go first.  I needed to figure out where the vampires hung out.  The night before last, when I was seeking out my challenge in the pubs of man, it was merely to garner information about him.  The opinions of a human are occasionally far more valuable than how an equal views you.  If they consider you to be a vicious brute, for example, I can kill you with no quibbling.

However.  I now wished to associate with my peers.  Or as close to peers as I can get in this one pub bigger-than-a-hamlet.  Shouldn't be too difficult.  I'll just jaunt around the village until I find a vampire.

A few hours into the night, I struck gold!  A vampire- a Gangrel judging by her dirty robes and the bird on her shoulder-was feeding on a small woman.  I was not as silent as I should have been.  The vampire didn't notice me, but the human did.  Fortunately, her whimpering did not alert her attacker to my presence.

I pulled my prey from hers.  The female collapsed from blood loss.  

The vampire stared at me in shock, demanding to be released.  When I refused, she attacked.  I threw her to the ground before she could strike, and retaliated post haste.  The Gangrel weathered my blow well.  I was pleased.  Clearly, she had spirit!  Her fingers elongated, forming those most effective claws.  

She swiped!  But the attack was slow and I dodged easily.

The vampire hissed her questions to me.  Why did I attack her?  Who was I working for?  What did I want?

Firstly, I pointed out.  She attacked me first.  I merely interrupted a meal.  Secondly, I was under no contract at the moment.  And thirdly, I wanted information.

I could tell the vampire desperately wanted to continue her assault upon my person.  But she wisely refrained.

Taking that as acceptance and leave to continue, I asked of her whereabouts during the market attack.

"In the woods," she caustically replied.  I did not appreciate her tone.  But would forgo the proper response for now.

"Could anyone confirm this alibi," I questioned.

The Gangrel snickered, saying she was with her bird.  She also snidely suggested might I ask it to verify her claims.

Her stunned expression when I initiated conversation with the bird was worth this night alone.  After spending a moment gaining the bird's attention, I asked my question.

It replied honestly and true.  His mistress was indeed in the woods last night.

I thanked the beast and turned to thank the vampire as well.

The silly girl attacked me again!  I dodged, but I could not believe what was happening.  Didn't she know that she was free to go?  That I had no further wish to quarrel?

However, a challenge has been made.  And I must accept it.

I too extended my claws and held them in the readiness.  My swords would've given me reach, but that would not have been in fairness.

She attacked again.  I easily sidestepped her, plunging my taloned hand through her torso.  The Gangrel fell.  She stared up at me with panic in her eyes.  She feared the final death.  And rightly so.  For her life now belonged to me.  

I asked her why she attacked.  

She claimed she wanted to avenge the clansman I Diablerized in order to gain my Protean abilities.

My laughter roared throughout the night, sending all birds, save hers, flying across the moonlit sky.

I decided I would spare her her life for that bit of amusement.  But I could not leave her without punishment.  We spoke more.  On why I searched for this vampire, on the mission I currently undertook.  And when our conversation was over, she stared vacantly at the stars above.  

Turning away, satisfied my opponent was utterly defeated, I was again surprised.  She raged to me her hatred and venom.  Disappointingly, the silence I placed upon her mind had already receded.  Before it could wipe our encounter from her thoughts, no less!  I did not want her to speak of me to anyone.  For a while, at least.  Perhaps what worked on the Captain would work on her as well?

I entranced her with my presence, and she bade me to stay with her for the remainder of the night.  I politely refused, but said that I would most likely remain in town for another night.  She should seek me then.  I'm sure we would have much to talk about.  

I questioned her on the likely whereabouts of my mark.  She replied with, the Barn.  And gave me it's location.  I thanked her for her assistance, and asked that she remained here until just before sunrise.  The Gangrel smiled dully and promised she would.  Bidding farewell to her and her bird, I left.

This "Barn" was located ten miles east of the village.  If I use all the speed available to me, I should have more than enough time to investigate the place before dawn.  And I was right.  The journey took but minutes.  I examined my environment.  There were two structures.  A house and a barn.  Both appeared to be extremely dilapidated.  I ached to go exploring and promised to do so before the night was over.

But first I must see what is inside this barn.  Or perhaps there's a who, too?

I crept.  Again, not nearly as silently as I could!  This time though, I paid for my error.  A sentry of some sort called out to me.  Shrugging, I came out of the shadows to confront him.

He asked that I identify myself.  

I asked why.  

According to him, the barn was a meeting place for the vampires of this region.  If I wanted entrance, I needed to present myself.  

Logical, I suppose.  Though I'm no Vulcan and know little of logic.  Still.  It would be easier if I hid my true nature as a Mal-tzisce for now.  I told him my name was Bator, of the Tzimisce.  

The sentry greeted me, and led me to the entrance.  Inside, it was a dirty, disused, barn.  While I was more than content to lurk about in a place like this, I highly doubted any of the so-called "high clans" would be as tolerant.  My curiosity was peaked, and I would ask my  guide to explain himself.  But I held my tongue for the moment.  

Patience is indeed a virtue.  The sentry opened a secret door, revealing stairs leading underground.  What fun!  He called down and a voice answered.  We waited for a moment.  The sentry looked me in the eyes with a trusting smile.  It took all the will I had not to repay him for it.  An eternity passed. (It was more like moments, actually.  But that is a long time when one is struggling with one's own inner child!)  In the manner befitting one the "high clans", I was about to whine bitterly about being forced to wait for even the merest time, when steps echoed from the stairs.

Someone was coming up!  A ghoul, to be exact.  The sentry spoke to him the false name I'd given.  The ghoul bowed deeply to me, and bade me to follow as he turned back down the steps.  As I did so, the sentry closed the door behind me.  With nothing to do during the trip down the stairs, I took stock of my surroundings.  Candles lit the walls around us, casting an almost cheery glow to the pale grey and water logged rock making up the walls and steps.

Oh would that I had but the time!  I'd make these dreary walls pretty!  They spoke to me of their lust for something new to adorn their faces.  Pity them, these walls, in their drab and wet life!  For they know not the color of the world that lay outside the hated door.  Pity them.

We reached the bottom of that most anguished corridor.  The ghoul opened another door.  Beyond it lay a most intriguing site.  It was a gather of Kindred!  Interesting.  Surely, the Gangrel spoke truth to me!  The odds of my finding the one I was looking for grew.  As did my hopes of discovering exactly what that one saw.

The ghoul announced me, and I entered.  

This place was quite remarkable.  Clansmen of all kind interacted here.  Ravnos spoke with Ventrue, Brujah with Lasombra, and so on and so forth.  The only clans not represented in this gathering that I could see, were the Nosferatu - as it should be.  Ugly, ugly vermin- and the Malkavians.

Clearly I must act on behalf of my former clan.  I walked towards the center of the gathering, intend upon making my presence known.

Once there, I would show these curs the meaning of...  Ooh!

Little people were serving beverages!  Marvelous!  They are so entertaining, little people.  Waddling on their tiny stubby legs.

They and humpbacks are proof of the divine.  If God truly made us in His image, then one only has to look at the lowest of stature and status to see Him in all His glory.

A little one stumbled on some bit of trash left on the floor, spilling his potable cargo upon the person of a Tzimisce.  The Tzimisce kicked the fellow for his trouble and threatened to make the poor sot's gnarled body even more deformed and hideous.

I like he and his ilk.  Not the Tzimisce.  No, they are all arrogant braggarts with delusions of stateliness and nobility.  I was referring to the little one.  Often, they have afforded me and my kind entertainment and enjoyment.  For they too see the world as it truly is.

It's a joke.  A stinking, garbled, wretched, comedy where the punch line is delivered to your face.  Except in the case of the the little people.  They aren't tall enough, so the joke goes over their heads.  Which is why the Malkavians have always been happy to explain it to them.  Of course, if you explain a joke to a person, it looses its humor.  

That must be why the little people are so damned unhappy, I concluded as the Tzimisce kicked him again.  

But I digress.  I need to focus!  The din of this collection of bloodsuckers would drive me to distraction.  I can't let it.  Around me vampires reveled in their supposed  superiority.  They cast furtive looks about, hoping no one sees them as they indulge in their acts of depravity.

It's sickening.  These acts, once performed without worry of reprisal, have been cast down underground.  Like a buried dead thing trying to stay alive.  Damn the Elders and their fucking Masquerade!  Vampires hiding below the surface like gophers.  Filthy beasts, gophers.  Nothing good comes from them.

But now something has come to my mind.  A revelation of sorts.  Before me are the self-proclaimed High Clans of the Kindred:  Tzimisce, Bruja, Cappadocian, Lasombra, Toreador, and Ventrue.  The "Lords and Ladies" of our kind.  They point their noses up to the ceiling, and stand in judgement over the rest of us.

And yet.  And yet.  And yet they hide.  They hide!

Oh the richness of life!  Such irony, delicious as blood could never be!

What vermin, the vampire.  Hiding beneath the feet of man.  Shamed.  Forced into this seclusion by their own elders.  It threatens to bring a smile to my Bator mask.  I love it.  

Time, I think, for some fun.

What should I do?  Bespell a Bruja?  Trick the Tremere?  Grope a Gangrel?  Such possibilities!

Alas!  I am here with a purpose.  One I must see through.  Unfortunately this is no time for mischief and malice.

I look now for my mark in this cornucopia of Kindred.  Thus, I begin to walk amongst these hiding cowards.  Oh my friend, Kaen.  If only you could see these, "Gods" now!  The stink of hypocrisy rubs against me as I move through this throng in search of the witness.

The noise!  The sights!  The smells!  

I wonder, wonder.  Why do I wonder?  What do I wonder, I wonder?

Heh.

Ha.

Ha, ha.

Grahha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Gnyargh!  hrr, hrr, hrr, hrr, hrr!  

Hryah!  HA!  HA!  HA!  HA!  HA!

They stare at me, my colleagues.  Now _they_ wonder.  But I don't!  I know!  I see this farce for what it is.

But I shan't say.  It's just something that you'll have to figure out for yourself.  After all...  You don't want me to explain it to you as if you were some retarded midget?  Do  you?

Out from the cacophony of Kine, a voice garners my attention. 

"...and after the head flew off, the carnage really began," the voice declared, hearty and jovial.

I approached.

"Excuse me, sirrah.   But might you be speaking of the previous night's killings?"

The vampire turned to me.  Drunk.  His crimson stained teeth stark against the backdrop of pallid skin.  He was feeding upon the thinning blood of a drunkard, present for that very purpose.  The liquor's intoxicating effects transfered to this patron.  

I studied him, the vampire.  His clothing was nondescript, and his features unremarkable.  I gleaned very little from his appearance.  Much to my annoyance.

As I studied him, so too did he consider me.  He sneered.  Apparently, I'm not quite up to his standards.

"Well?" I demanded.  The poor sot had the temerity to look affronted at my impatient tone.  He waved his hand dismissively.  I resisted the urge to break it.

This was simply not acceptable.  I grabbed the cur by his lapel and made him respond to me.

"I do believe I asked of you a question."  He swallowed nervously. "I do believe you will answer it."

The filthy coward nodded his head eagerly and asked me what I wanted to know.

Again, I questioned him on what he's seen last eve.  He lied to me.  And he did it well.  Had I not been so mistrustful of him, his deception would have indeed fooled me.

My patience fled and I invaded his mind.  Stole his secrets.  His life, such as it is, was mine to examine.  To judge.

What pathetic hopes and dreams he has.  I would be doing our kind a disservice by allowing him to exist.

I scanned his memories for the event, and found it.

The world is a malicious and tumultuous place through his eyes.  Perhaps Kindred would not be the only ones to benefit from his death.

Hmm.

_It's about time for a meal, he/I think(s) to my/himself.  His/My usual hunting ground is the marketplace.  There's always some random soul he/I can consume.  I'm/He's arriving just in time for the evening crowd.  What wonderful timing!  He/I take refuge in a secluded alley by a store.  It's the perfect place for me/him to feed.  Then he/I wait(s).  Before long, I/ he see(s) a stray girl standing all alone.  She's a pretty one, he/I notice(s).  Perhaps I'll/he'll have some fun with her first.  Or maybe after.  Or during.  Or all three, even!  I/He will not be intimidated a woman!  No!  He/I will show her who's afraid! Just as he's/I'm reaching out for the unsuspecting child, a commotion breaks out!_

_I/He see(s) a head fly to the heavens.  The he/I see(s) my/his dinner and good time run off.  What follows was amazing!  He/I could never hope to achieve such feats!  The attacker moved as though he were wind!  And thunder.  And lightning!  Woe is(am) me/I!  For I/he shall never be like that.  He's/I'm too weak and pathetic.  I/He can't even rape and feast upon a single adolescent girl!_

_As the carnage comes to a stop, the stranger takes a teenaged boy from the crowd and forces him to write something on the wall.  He/I couldn't(can't) see if from that(this) angle.  The boy then dies and the vampire vanishes. _ 

I search this memory for salient details regarding the attacker this pathetic wretch so envied.  I found none.  He appears the same in both the villager's mind and this one's.

This entire encounter took but moments.  Barely enough time for the surrounding vampires to take notice.

I say into his mind what I intend to do to him.  This warning does not help him.  Nay!  It sweetens the pot!  I stare into his eyes and he fades from the banality of reality.  That rhymes.

Still in his mind, I see the world fade away into a dream.  

He goes slack and falls to the ground.  

Mother comes to him and beats him for being a sinner. _ I'm sorry, Mommy!  I didn't mean to touch myself!  I'll be good, honest!_

The fellow he was talking to begs off, presumably in search of an authority.

Mother transforms into a giant naked beast.  Her sex is large and cavernous.  It threatens to eat him whole.  He must fight her using his sword.  If he kills her, then he is finally free.  A woman awaits for the Heroic One to vanquish the evil Mother so that they may fornicate.

I leave the dream, amused.  

Then, in turn, I leave the Barn and all it's feculent glory.

The sentry comes after me, having been told what has happened by the ghoul.  I hear him approaching.  His stealth could be better too.  How satisfying.

I turn around to face him, smirking.  He commands me to return with him to the Barn.  I refuse, confident in my ability to dispatch this fool quickly.

He slashes at me with his sword, bruising me!  His movement was so fast!  I saw nothing!  

My smirk transforms into a smile.  A challenge has been issued.  And it will be met.

My retaliatory strike is a thing of legend!  The elegance in which I draw my weapon is breathtaking.  The skill inherent in the delivery of my attack is nothing short of astounding!

Yet the fiend does something to my mind!  Something to cause my clearly lethal and not at all weak and disappointingly amateurish swipe to only bruise him.  Bastard!

He takes his blade and runs it across my flesh!

Ho!  But my skin is too hard for such a feeble edge!  It does nothing, save tear my uniform.

There will be revenge!  For the briefest of moments, my mind threatens to go black with the beast within.  I would loose myself, were it not for the thirst of battle.  But I was able to keep the darkness contained.  Barely.  I like my uniform!

My answering maneuver is knocked aside by my foe!  His sadistic mind powers continue to batter at my mind!  It distracts me, and he is able to land another strike!

A glancing blow.  No more worthy of notice than his first.  But this galls me.  It vexes me in a way I will not explain.  For such feeling must be dealt with internally.  Smothered and buried like the dead.  So that when it erupts, it will have the full force and fury of the zombie!  

By now, vampires have come out from the Barn and have begun to cheer us on, taking wagers on who will win.

I see, out of the corner of my eye, the friend to the witness.  He observes this contest with great intensity.  I know that after I kill my challenger, this battle is not over.

Fantastic!  This is what life is really about!  Combat!  Skill!  Perhaps even...  What, I wonder, smiling.

Hee.

This time I easily parry his advance.  The remarkable will I possess must be fending off his mind tricks!

I move in for an attack, stabbing his side!

Yes!  Take that, mind powers!

He's hurt.  His wound slows him down.  I parry his swing, retaliating with one of my own.

But to no avail.  He moves to the left.  My offensive move misses by mere meters. (Yes!  Take that, alliteration!)

His dodge is his undoing!  Though he evaded my sword, his falls from his hand!  The fool stumbles upon a root and drops his weapon!

Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!

I am able to contain my merriment by only a tiny fraction.  It threatens to spill from my sides as though to burst them!

As I advance to end this charade, I am felled by a hand rising from the ground to bespell my feet!  I tumble next to my foe and he stares at me with disbelief.  In truth, I do not blame him.  I look to see the hand, yet spy nothing but a root.  The same root.  Accursed root!  How dare it!  To change sides so, is the epitome of dishonor!  After I have dispatched this sentry and my witness's friend, I will attend to it as well.  Oh yes.

We both move to our feet, but my opponent gets there first.  His sword is at my neck and there is a look of unmistakable triumph upon his face.

With less ease than I can be satisfied with, I knock the blade away.

Triumph is replaced by frustration and he attacks, wildly.

It is stopped without any real effort.

In return, I attack with all my might, intending to sever his head from his neck.

The sentry ducks under my arm.  My momentum causes me to lose my balance.  Again, I am on the ground.  My sword has fallen from my hand and is stolen by his.

The triumph is back as he swing both weapons.

My own sword is brandished at me, and I am attacked by it.  

I manage to escape my blade's touch, but fell victim to his.

The hardness of my skin saves me from damage.  Though my uniform is again not so fortunate.

I grow weary of this conflict.  Already, I wish to move on to the next one.

I pull a knife from my side and stab it into this neck.

Blood spurts from this mortal injury.  It's a shame he's not mortal.

Wounded, he drops my sword and attacks with his own.  Apparently, he is not as skilled in duel wielding as I.  If only these were lightsabers...  Ah well.  At least I can make the, _vumm-woosh!_ sounds myself.

Rolling out of the way, I take up my sword and slice at him.  _Wushzz_!

He parries. (_vigggzz_!)  But it is feeble and slow and avoided.  And yet... He is _still_ able to escape my (light)saber!

He swings again, eager as I for this to end.  Perhaps more so, as he is definitely worse for the wear.

My blade strikes true, (_lightsaber noise!_) and he is mauled.  Though his movement is made no slower.

Or is it?  His latest attempt is weak and clumsy.  I knock it aside with no effort and make to end him.

The sentry raises his arm to block.

Both it, and his head, are gone in one swipe.  _Lightsaber-searing-flesh-and-cauterizing-it-at-the-same-time noise!_  

Finally!

"There can be only one," I crow, and wait for the Quickening to happen.  

Y'know...  I think I'm mixing metaphors.  Or is that sci-fi franchises?  Can Highlander even _be_ considered sci-fi?  It doesn't matter.  I challenge you _not_ to stand up and cheer when Queen's, Princes of the Universe begins playing!

During my digression, the witness's friend steps out from the circle of cheering and booing onlookers.  

He readies an axe.

Goody!  I haven't fought an axe in ages!  But it does ruin both meta-sci-fi-ores for me.  Nobody uses an axe.  

Looks like it's up to me to show him why.

As I was busy pontificating to myself my own merits, the friend lunged.  I was just getting to why I'm such a good shoulder to cry on, when I noticed his attack.  Unfortunately, I noticed it too late and was hit.  But I managed to roll with the attack and take no damage. 

I sighed.  Here we go again.  My earlier optimism concerning this battle was rapidly going by way of my previous opponent.

This time, though, I will fight differently.  I held back before.  It was foolish, I know.  But I forgot I had some of the abilities I have.

With all celerity, I grabbed him by the neck.  Then I let go, and backed away.

He sputtered and spat.  His uncomprehending glare was so lovely to look upon, I had to smile.

"What's so damned funny," he questioned, murderously.  

I merely shrugged in response. "It's your move now," I said to him. "Perhaps you should take advantage of that."

Of course, he wasn't thrilled with my flippant remark.  He snarled, intelligently, and swung his weapon in a graceless arc.

A maneuver simply avoided.  I stepped forwards and planted my sword firmly into his torso, wounding him.

He stumbled, my sword dangling out of him, and I was suddenly reminded of time spent with Fail.  I couldn't help it.  I laughed.  It was so damned rich!

"I'll kill you!" the friend promised. "For what you did to Javier!"

Too funny! "Really?  How very loyal of you.  I'd have imagined you'd be more concerned with the impalement."

He took two steps towards me, before I spoke again. "I would also be more knowledgeable, sir, of whom I am speaking with.  For you see, I am a mage, of sorts, and I control the lightning and the elements." He froze, a look of fear on his face. "Doesn't metal attract lightning?" I asked innocently.

The fear vanished. "No," he sneered.

Wow.  He's stupid. "I'm pretty sure it does, actually."

"You simpering moron. I meant:  No.  I don't think you're a mage!  Wearing that ridiculous costume, you don't look smart enough to open a book!  Let alone learn magic!"

It was my turn to sneer. "It's a uniform."

And so it was his turn to laugh.  At least until he stopped.  Abruptly, and collapsing to the ground in great agony.  Dagon's Call was heard.  I am pleased.  It's not magic, but it'll do.

The crowd began their whispering and gossiping and carrying on about the spectacle that had unfolded before them.  But it wasn't over yet.  I'll give them a show they won't soon forget.

My crippled foe struggled to rise.  He succeeded.  

Impressive.

So impressive, in fact, that I let him take a shot at me.  I didn't feel it, of course.  He's far too wounded for that, but I wanted him to know he couldn't hurt me.

I grabbed him, trying to end this quickly, but he was able to push me away!  

He swung his axe again.  I was so surprised by his sudden burst of strength, that I failed to block it!  Fortunately, I recovered enough to roll with this attack and avoid taking damage.

This fight has gone for too long.

I grab at my sword and cleave it upwards to the moon.  Blood and brains quickly follow.

I lick crimson from steel and bow to my audience.

"Will there be any other takers?" I asked.  

Nobody moved.

With laughter, I took my leave of them.  The sun was rising soon, and I wished to return to the hotel.

Once there, I realized I forgot to revenge myself on that accursed root!

Oh well.  Knowing my luck, It would've turned out to be the hairs of a great colossus.  The kind that likes pretty red and black covered vampires. . . for dinner!

I suppose it's a good thing I didn't stab the colossus hair/root, then.  I'm so smart.  I think I will go to sleep now.  It's getting early in the morning.

Thus, I retired for the day.

My waking was late.  Again I had forgone feeding before bed.  (It usually goes straight to my hips anyways.)  Hungry, I headed towards the woods to repeat my last sup.  

Before I could drink my fill, however, I was forced to move the animal in front of me.  You see, I had to block the arrow.

I dropped my meat shield and complemented the shooter for being able to mask their presence so well.

There was no reply, save for the subtle shuffling of leaves and twigs.

Pointless.  It is useless to hide from one such as I.  My detection skills are nearly unparalleled amongst my peers.

I take my small knife from out my sleeve and, without looking, throw it at my unseen stalker.

I hear a muffled curse.  My new fascination is a woman then.  And perhaps not so new.  She leaps from her spot, high above in the canopy of this dense European woods.  She makes a passable landing, but hardly one that impresses.  It is the Gangrel.

She drops my knife before me and speaks to me of humiliation.  She tells me what happens to those that shame her.

Poor, misguided, girl.  Why doesn't she understand that there is no shame, nor humiliation, in being bested by one who is superior?

When I asked that question, her eye twitched.

Ah.  That's how it is.

She moves to strike me, her fingers becoming talons.  The distance is covered quickly and she lays hands upon me.  I deflect her, easily.

"Your life belonged to me, woman," I remind her. "I spared it, and this is what I get?"

The Gangrel spits at me, snarling, animal like, until she is transformed into a fearsome bruin.  I could feel her hot breath on my face, the stench of rotted meat violating my olfactory senses.

I considered following suit, to become a mighty chimera, but no.  I am too powerful.  My Protean form would kill her.  Interesting possibilities had begun to take shape in my mind.  I wish her to live.  Thus I must subdue her.  But how?

Of course!  I shall use trickery!

Jumping away from the bestial Gangrel, I climb a tree and shroud myself in the canopies.  Just as she had done.  With great skill and dexterity did I traverse through the dense foliage, keeping watch of my enemy, my puppet.  She, for her part, was able to keep track.  Though not for long.  

I laughed as I leapt.  She couldn't fly.  Her mental powers are greatly diminished in that form.  And she could no more strike down a tree than she could tan.  Her debilitating sentimentality regarding flora and fauna saw to that.

Lo, what fools these immortals be.

She did not take too well my taunting of her, for that is what she rightly perceives my merriment to be.  I called down, asking to be hurt, knowing she could not comply.

And so I laugh again!  The transmogrified Gangrel attempted to scale a tree.  The claws do gain purchase in the soft bark, but cannot hold the weight of a full grown beast! 

I can't stand it!  I will die final death from this amusement!

But not before I do at least one more thing.  With my bow, I take aim and let loose an arrow.  My sport yelps in surprise at the shaft sticking so rudely out of her hide.  It does little damage, if any.  But I don't mind.  The look on her face is more than enough to satisfy me.

"If you want me, Gangrel, why have you not taken me?" I holler down, resuming my movement from tree to tree. "Have I not humiliated and shamed you to your satisfaction?  Shall I continue to play?"

The Gangrel roared her outrage.  Impotently.  Honestly, was there anything more stupid than turning into an animal that can't fly or burn things?  If she could change into something useful, like a dragon, then this contest would be over.  Well, not over, per say, just a lot more interesting to watch.  I would win, of course.  Three heads are way better than one.

I could stay up here and indulge my sense of humor, but unfortunately my sense of honor rebels against such cowardly notions.  I tell my honor that it isn't cowardice if I'm not actually afraid, but to no avail.  Honor demands that I go down there and make this sporting for the little wretch.  I feel as though I should humor my honor.  My good humor is ruined.  I'm now annoyed.  Mildly.

Whatever.

I leap down, with far more grace and skill than my foe might I add.  The bruin snarls at me, but does not move.  She only stares. 

I stare back.  

She stares.

I stare some more.

She continues to stare as well.

In her eyes I see chaos.  A torrent of noise and feeling, begging to be silenced.

I oblige.

In her eyes I see dullness.  An order of quiet and nothing, wanting direction.

I oblige.

I command the bruin to again become a woman.  Without the heat of combat, the change is slower.  I find myself staring, transfixed, as beast gives way to man.  I see the snout grow small, eyes loose color and shape, paws become hands and feet.  It is almost sublime, this visage of subtle meaning.  It this action, I see the meaning of life.  The one thing all living creatures search for.  The one thing that can quell the raging curiosity and ambition, dark or otherwise, hidden beneath our human exterior.  The one thing that can bring peace and serenity to the discord in our beating hearts.

Too bad I'm dead and my heart doesn't beat.  Otherwise, I'd probably retire someplace nice to match my newfound inner peace and tranquility.  Maybe Roanoke.  Y'know, I might just go there anyway?

The girl is a girl again.  She looks at me dumbly.  Finally!  Her exterior matches the interior!  Ooh, snap!  Sick burn!

Moving right along, we now have the opportunity of her lifetime here in the palm of my very awesome hands.  I pull off a glove and, after tucking it into my belt, I cut open said palm.  The Gangrel watches with vacant eyes.  I place my hand over her mouth and command her to drink.

She does.

Excellent.

When she's had enough, I tell her to go.  I don't care where, I just want her to go.

With all due haste, she scampers off to places unknown.  Ah, adventure.

I look to the moon to see how much time till dawn.  She is high in the night sky.  Her pull excites me.  My blood flows so richly, that I could almost imagine the spark of life in my soul.

I howl for my Mistress and her creatures answer my call.

I run.

... for about ten minutes.  Then I get bored and go home.

Later that evening, I decided this would be my last full night in this village.  The trail of the murderer was cold.  I could not find any way of tracking him down.  Not with the clues left behind, at least.  And I am satisfied I studied them with all my skill and intelligence.  I doubt that anyone, even those higher in generation and power than me, could find the perpetrator.  Most of those who would consider themselves my better would not lift a finger towards this task anyway.  The pompous braggarts would most surely delegate such a task to their subordinates, feeling they are too important, or this matter too trivial, for them to engage in.

That is why the Camarilla was made necessary.  The arrogant and self-serving Elders and Princes did nothing to further their own goals.  Preferring to indulge in pomp and circumstance while their Childer and Neonates worked for their favor.  Even after they have proven themselves worthy of life and the title of Ancille, older Cainites still consider them at their beck and call.

How is one to elevate to a higher standing?  Always the older generation will be the elder one.  Always will they believe themselves to be superior to the younger ones.  The only way to be the eldest, to be masters of their own destinies, was to attack and kill their Sires.

And the feeble, sentimental old bastards couldn't even put such brash, young, pups down!  Not without actually killing them!

But they wouldn't do that, would they?  Not unless they absolutely had to.

"We love them," they claimed. "They are our children," they said. "We only wish to protect all Kine," they protested. 

Boo-hoo.

When my own childer, Charlie-Backpack, tried to Diablerize me, I took over his body and killed his mind!  Not even a remnant was left behind.

So too should the Elders and Princes have dealt with the uprising of their offspring in such a fashion.  Instead they allowed the humans to take notice of us.  To, instead of fearing us, instill fear _into_ us!  Causing us to hide from the weaker, fragile, cattle.

It is madness.  Pure and simple.

My kind have always been considered insane, but we act true to our nature.  Our, "masters", the Elders of Cainite, society hide theirs, knowing full well what they are.  

Monsters.  Beasts.  

In our hearts of hearts we have such evil that even the sun fears us!  Burning us away so that the rest of the Earth my have some chance at life!

We should not have to hide from man.  We should conquer them!  If they are truly to be lords of this world, then they should earn that title.  Better to die in battle than to hide like Nosferatu!  I will never hide!  I would rather all of vampire kind be obliterated and made extinct than to suffer such indignity!

But I digress.

The evening is late, and the morn approaches.  Tomorrow  night I shall quit this place and head to greener pastures.  Perhaps the perpetrator will commit his crimes again.  Perhaps not.  If he does, however, I shall be there to investigate.  To see if I may know his face through the evidence left behind.

And if I can... Then interesting times will lay ahead of me.

What am I saying?  Interesting times will always lay ahead.

For I am an immortal.  Infinite time is before me, and I will make sure it is of interest.  If not to me, then certainly for someone... else.

Ha.  Ha.  Ha.


End file.
